


santa baby

by OccasionallyCreative



Series: let's get the shit kicked out of us by love. [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21878215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionallyCreative/pseuds/OccasionallyCreative
Summary: Ben Solo is Kylo Ren, the bad boy of rock and, involved in a legal tussle with his record label, he's been forced into making a Christmas cover just in time for the Christmas number one. Rey is his manager who stays by his side, through the car-crash interviews and television appearances (Ben, did you really have to say that thing about drugs for free? On live television?) for reasons more than the paycheck.But for them to admit what it is that really keeps them together, apart from the music, that might take a Christmas miracle.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: let's get the shit kicked out of us by love. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576099
Comments: 12
Kudos: 147





	santa baby

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, another story. The good news, however - it's a one-shot!
> 
> In fact, this is the first of 10 stories, which will all be unrelated short fics based on/inspired by each of the couples featured in "Love Actually". I was planning on posting each of them in the days leading up to Christmas, but life got in the way and I gave up the idea. But you know what? The Rise of Skywalker happened and fuck it, I need fluff! To soothe my heart.
> 
> So here's the first, inspired by the story between Billy Mack and Joe.
> 
> Enjoy. ❤️

When Ben Solo, known as Kylo Ren, first came onto the scene, he was the bad boy of rock. The man who smashed up hotel rooms because he was bored like he was trying to emulate the madness of Keith Moon or the cool above-it-all nature of middle-aged Elvis shooting television sets.

When Rey had started, she’d been the lackey, making teas, coffees and taking the bins out. Methodically, she scavenged scraps of knowledge from each high-powered executive she served and remembered the orders of the musicians before they could remember themselves. She made herself memorable.

Memorable enough to be assigned to the notorious Kylo Ren.

“Rey, right?” Ben Solo asked, rubbing his eyes of sleep. His dark hair, usually fluffed for the camera, was mussed from oversleeping. He carried all the markers of a hangover, and nothing of a rock star. Rey slid into the seat opposite him. She should’ve been trembling, stood in front of this walking rumour mill. But she’d worked for her position. Instead, she slammed down a glass of water and a packet of paracetamol in front of him, daring him to look after himself.

“I’m your new manager,” she told him, folding her hands together, pressing them onto the desk. She breathed, determined not to look anxious. “And I want to make this clear: I’m not your employee. This is a partnership. I’ll help you when you need it, but I will not suffer for you. Understood?”

Ben Solo stared at her, his eyes inquisitive, a small frown in the downturn of his full lips, for a long silence.

“My last manager had a nervous breakdown.” He grabbed the water, stood and walked out of the meeting room. 

* * *

Now, Kylo Ren is making headlines more for his bad decisions than his music, and Rey has been photographed in the background of airport photographs more times than she can count.

Right this minute, Ben is counting in his head, softly tapping his feet to the song’s rhythm. The microphone hovers close to his cheek. His lips are parted slightly, his mind going over the lyrics one more time.

“I feel it in my fingers… I feel it in my toes...”

He feels, rather than sings. That’s what NME said about him, aeons ago, before his decision-making took up the word count rather than his lyrics.

He was doing well at First Order Records. Under Snoke’s wing, he’d released three albums, in quick succession. He’d created his band. The Knights of Ren, usually they were found wherever Kylo Ren went. (They’d not been allowed at this recording, Snoke forbid it; another caustic way of showing Ben exactly what he’d be missing. The limos and food and drink and hotel rooms had gradually been stopped too.)

Then Ben had to go and have a crisis. 

Three months smoking pot at his uncle Luke’s coastal cabin in some dead-end part of Ireland where puffins roamed free. Ben took a liking to one. He called it Kylo and sent her pictures of Kylo doing bird things. He sent a video of him, clearly high, giggling while Kylo squawked outside his window. Rey swiftly deleted it. She wanted to keep it, but any video of Ben high? She wasn’t running any risks as Ben’s manager. She committed his giggle in the video to memory though.

Meanwhile, the news ran rampant, linking him to actresses galore, claiming sordid affairs covered up by the “official story” of him writing new material, while online blogs wondered if Snoke’s influence had pushed the boy wonder too far. It was a fun couple of months keeping up with the theories and ‘insider’ stories, while Snoke roared his fury every time his PA informed him of each one.

Ben came back and Snoke had battered him verbally. Staff at First Order Records joked they could hear the screaming ten miles away. 

Halfway through an arranged news conference, where Kylo Ren looked more like a kicked dog than a rock star, Ben grabbed the microphone from Snoke, announced he was quitting First Order and taking a sabbatical until further notice. He’d stormed from the room then, away from the questions and leaving Rey to clean up the mess.

Dutifully, she did so. Her cheeks burned throughout, fists clenched in the camera flashes of photographers, the whir of news cameras and the barrage of questions.

Of course, life isn’t a movie. Contracts aren’t easy to break, and it turns out, you don’t want to piss off an executive. Especially one like Snoke.

But Ben had, and Snoke took his revenge.

First went the luxuries, then the perks and now this. The cherry on top of the icing. Record and release this track, get to number one in time for Christmas and maybe, just maybe, Ben wouldn’t be facing a juggernaut of a lawsuit from Snoke’s lawyers.

“Love is all around me…”

The technicians sigh, cutting off the music. Rey presses for talkback.

“You did it again, Ben.”

Ben glowers, signals for the track to roll again.

“The backing singers managed it just fine,” one technician, Mikata, grumbles to the other, safe in the knowledge that Ben can’t hear him. 

The intro plays again. Ben taps his foot and gently nods along to the rhythm. 

_For the fourth time._

“I feel it in my fingers…” Ben sings smoothly. Going good so far. “I feel it in my toes…”

Behind her back, Rey crosses her fingers. 

“Love is all around - shit, fuck!” Ben smacks the microphone, making it swing hard left, leaving the technicians and Rey wincing. Growling, he spins around on his heel, smacking the side of his stomach, punishing himself. “ _Fuck!_ ”

Rey sighs, pressing the button for talkback once more. “Ben, take three. It’s okay. We’ll start over.”

Ben nods, already pacing up and down the length of the rug.

“Alright,” he says eventually. He adjusts the microphone. He rolls his shoulders. “Start again.”

Rey leans on the counter, watching him carefully. The intro plays again.

“It’s getting dark, c’mon babe,” she murmurs.

Mikata frowns as he stares up at her.

“What did you say?”

Rey blinks. “Hm?”

Mikata blinks back.

“I feel it in my fingers – I feel it in my toes – Christmas is all around me…” Ben’s face lightens with elation. His eyes flick up to Rey’s as if seeking her approval. It’s a habit with him. She gestures with an ‘okay’ sign. Ben continues, crooning into the microphone. “And so, the feeling grows… It’s written on the wind – it’s everywhere I go… So, if you really love Christmas, come and let it snow…”

The musical break plays layered on with the backing vocals. Stepping back from the mic, Ben looks at Rey properly. His smile returns, but this time only a small uptick of the corners of his mouth.

“This is shit,” he declares.

Rey grins, pressing the talkback. “Solid gold shit, maestro.”

* * *

“So that was Kylo Ren, without his Knights but with “Christmas is All Around”.” The DJ in the booth next door scoffs. Rey knew him from the moment she entered the studio, seeing him standing by a water cooler, eyebrow raised as Ben was shuffled into a production meeting. Armitage Hux had clear ambitions to join First Order Records, given how many times he’d played Ben’s records while he was with them.

After the disastrous news conference, he’d played maybe one Kylo Ren record a week. 

“My, how the mighty have fallen,” Hux continues, voice filled with disdain. “From platinum-selling artistry to a half-hearted attempt at the Christmas number one. It says something that Ren’s rival is a _pop group_ —”

Hux looks up, finally, to see Phasma, the afternoon slot of Absolute Radio, waving her hands in a kind of mercurial ‘ _if you don’t shut up, I will personally rip your balls off_ ’ panic. Ben, sitting in the interviewee’s chair, idly spins back and forth, staring down Hux.

Standing in the corner of the studio behind Ben, Rey gives a brief wave ‘hello’.

( _“She’ll have to stay in the green room, Mr Solo, she can’t be in the studio with you—”_ insisted the show’s producer. _“Then no interview,”_ Ben replied, keen to make things as difficult as possible.)

Hux clears his throat. “And as I understand it, indeed, as coincidence would have it, my colleague Phasma has Kylo Ren on next as her special guest. Welcome back, Kylo Ren.”

Ben smirks, putting on his headphones as a jingle plays out Hux’s show. The news and traffic burble away until the words ‘ON AIR’ glow above Phasma’s head. Rey straightens herself, breathing through her nose. Like the single, this press tour (of local radio, magazines and entertainment shows) is a farce, but it’s at least easier than squeezing Christmas clichés into a song about love.

Rey still comes out in hives whenever she thinks about the lyric, _come on and let it snow_.

Phasma slides into the casual interview style of every radio DJ.

“So, Kylo Ren. Welcome back to the airwaves. It’s so good to have you back. And your single is a Christmas-themed cover of “Love is All Around”. Any reason why that song? It’s an icon.”

“The threat of a lawsuit,” Ben answers. Rey squeaks, drawing his attention. Chuckling, he turns back to the mic. “If you heard that, listeners, that was my manager, reminding me lawsuits aren’t the desired topic for… what station is this?”

“Okay. Let’s move on.” Phasma is smooth as silk. “Kylo, how would you say this record compares to say, your last album?”

“Just like the old one, neither reflect my artistry.”

Phasma’s eyes light up. It must’ve been quite a while since she’s heard quite that level of honesty.

She confirms that by speaking. “Maybe you’d like to explain?”

“The record is, at best, subpar. It isn’t real music, it’s a record foisted upon me by a man I once admired, but because I refused to bow, scrape and say thank you for shoving multiple lawsuit filings right up my—”

The introducing guitar riff from “Christmas is All Around” rescues Ben from saying anything further. The show’s producer glares right in Ben’s direction. Rey hurries forward as Ben removes his headphones, his eyes widening when she grabs his arm, dragging him out, far from the booths.

Around them, the radio’s staff are all trying and failing, to hide their sniggering.

“What the _hell_ was that?” she hisses.

Ben shrugs. Rey is ready to punch him, or at least stamp on his foot, but her phone ringing rescues him from that also.

“Yes?” she snaps.

“I don’t know what the hell happened there over at Absolute,” Bazine says, “but Snoke’s having a fit.” 

“Great,” Rey says brightly. She settles for just a gentle squeeze of her heel on Ben’s toes. He yelps. “What’s the damage?”

“That bloody song is spiking like nobody’s business with streams.”

Rey glances to Ben. He can read her expression like a book, always has. He smirks through the pain. 

God, she’ll have to deal with days of this, won’t she?

“If I were you,” continues Bazine, stifling a laugh as Rey growls, “I’d book him for a lot more interviews.”

*

It becomes a running joke in the media. Kylo Ren hates his song. That topic isn’t new, but the fact he’s got so much rage stored up over a novelty Christmas song of all things is the exact tone of ridiculous and the press eat it up.

Buzzfeed runs an article about it— _Kylo Ren Really Hates “Christmas is All Around” and Here’s Why You Should Too”_ —then fuel the fire with listicles (19 Times Kylo Ren Insulted His Own Song and We Lived for It) and even a couple of quizzes.

Rey took one of them. Once. When she was drunk and alone and feeling kind of sad. That’s the only time she takes Buzzfeed quizzes. The title was ‘On a Scale of 1 to Kylo Ren, How Much Do You Hate Yourself’. (She got 3/10. She felt a little better about her life decisions after that.)

Snoke reluctantly embraced the memes, the jokes at the expense of First Order Records when he saw how much money Ben’s self-hatred was generating for the company, and of course, himself.

Pretty soon, while the company’s Twitter fuelled the fire with their sarcastic tweets about the wretched song, urging the song further up the ranks towards No.1, the perks returned. Free cars rode them to each interview. Ben’s rider got restored at television appearances. He got a new hairdresser, a new stylist.

If he continued to perform the song and continued to hate it.

In a moment of clarity, riding from one rehearsed train wreck of an interview to another, Ben asked her when she thought it would end.

Rey hesitated and asked if he wanted her to ask the driver to stop off for food.

* * *

This evening, the weekend before Christmas. It’s _the_ weekend. Ben’s single has been battling Little Mix’s version of “Santa Baby” for weeks, and Snoke hovers at the edges of the room, a kind of waspishness about him that keeps people away, save for a lawyer-type carrying a single, thick manila folder.

Everyone else is staff at First Order Records, plus ones and hangers-on that Rey is quite sure she’s never met before and is certain that Ben’s never met before. She glares at them every time they inch closer to him and pretends like they’re servers to a couple of the ultra-eager ones, already baring their claws.

She can’t help it. She just feels _protective_ of him.

Rey swallows as everyone focuses on the radio. It blasts through a surround sound system from the television.

“And who’s at number two? It’s either Santa Baby, or the viral hit nobody expected, Christmas is All Around,” Scott Mills says, drawing it out to the last available moment. “Well, let’s find out.”

Snoke leans in to whisper to the lawyer.

The opening bars of “Santa Baby” fill the air. Rey whips her head round towards Ben as a wave of cheers sweeps through the packed crowd.

Ben looks to be in a state of shock. He’s accepting congratulations with numb shakes of the hand and slaps to the back that he doesn’t shrug off.

“Kylo! Kylo! Kylo!” is the chant that springs up.

Snoke, meanwhile, finally makes his move. He edges closer into the crowd, parting the waves. His lawyer follows, clutching the manila folder in one hand and a fountain pen in the other. A sleek red that spills black ink.

Rey tries to rush forward, but the crowd is crushing in their attempts to be the next to congratulate Kylo Ren on his comeback.

“Ben!” she calls out, but she’s jostled by two rival execs pushing past yelling for Kylo. Snoke, ahead of her, subtly but firmly elbows them out of his way.

Snoke arrives at Ben’s side, touching his hand to his shoulder. Rey can’t read what he’s saying, but the body language between them is enough.

Somebody calls for music, and someone else jokingly puts on “Christmas is All Around”.

“Jesus, not that crap again!” yells one guest, and everyone laughs. Kylo Ren’s classics soon fills the venue. The speakers vibrate with the noise.

Ben’s fist clenches and unclenches. He sighs heavily, as if in defeat. That or resignation.

Rey stills. He’s going to do it.

Her shoulders sinking, she turns away. 

She grabs her coat as she goes, slipping out through the back door.

* * *

Rey comes home to half-eaten pizza in the fridge and when she switches on the television, the music video to “Christmas is All Around”. Ben— _Kylo Ren_ —stands in a full black suit among fake snow and fake white Christmas trees, while fake snow collects in his overly styled hair, miming his way through the song. It’s the least amount of effort Kylo Ren ever put into a music video.

It only added to the joke.

Rey scoffs, switching over the television. Some action film plays, things exploding at a regular enough pace that she’ll probably feel sleepy 15 minutes into watching.

Grabbing the pizza, she sits cross-legged on the floor. The pizza is cold and possibly starting to congeal, but it’ll do. She eats.

At some point, her doorbell rings.

Rey sits up. Looking at the television, she sees about an hour has passed since she arrived. Now some kind of horror movie’s playing.

Switching off the telly, Rey discards the empty pizza box. Heading downstairs, she picks up the intercom’s phone.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

Rey looks up, peering through the stained-glass window of her door. A tall figure stands in front of it, insanely broad and almost filling her doorway with the breadth of his shoulders.

Kylo Ren has the Christmas No.1 and he’s waiting outside her door on a London street to come in. Rey buzzes him in before a mob can appear.

When she opens the door, it feels like she’s opened the door, not to a comeback kid of the music industry, but an ordinary mortal, like her. He looks big but small and sheepish, all at once.

His hair is ruffled again.

“Uh. Hi.” She turns on her heel, heading into her kitchen. She feels Ben following her, rather than hears him. Sometimes she’s laughed about his being so quiet, for a rock star.

“I thought you’d be at the party. Models falling over you, you know—” Rey swallows. Her eyes sting, they feel wet, and it’s an odd feeling which puts her off her stride. She grabs a bottle of whiskey from behind the teabags and pours a glass. It clinks as she trembles. “The usual,” she finally says, biting her lip.

Rey turns to face him, not offering him the whiskey. It’s just there. Like him. Standing in front of her with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.

“I…” he starts. “Snoke… he offered... I – go back.”

“Okay.” Her voice wobbles, and she hates how that sounds. “Thanks for the advance notice.”

“I didn’t—”

Her phone rings. Of all moments, it rings. She holds up a finger. Ben shuts up, slinking towards her kitchen table and sinking into a chair. Rey frowns as she unlocks her phone, glancing at his knuckles. They’re scuffed.

She takes the first aid kit out from underneath her sink, grabbing bandages and wrapping his hands before he can explain.

Her phone rings again. This time, it’s a phone call, from Bazine.

Rey tucks the phone between her ear and her shoulder, tending to Ben’s wounds.

“Niima.”

“Rey, why are you not _on this_? This video is going viral, it’s racked up, God so many views on Twitter, on YouTube, I think somebody’s made a remix—”

Rey frowns, pressing her phone closer to her ear. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ben fiddle with his bandages.

“Wait, wait, wait. What video?”

“I just sent you a link!” Bazine near shrieks down the phone.

“Alright, alright,” Rey replies, wincing at the sudden volume. For the first time, she hears a level of hubbub behind Bazine and someone yelling _get her to tell Ben congratulations!_ “Give me a minute, I just need to—”

She hangs up, switching to her texts. Bazine’s most recent text is just a string of exclamation marks and a Twitter link.

The tweet in question is a video. A video of Snoke, CEO of First Order Records, being heard to say _it’s the right thing to do she was holding you back_. A video of Kylo Ren suddenly clenching his fist and amongst a crowd of hangers-on, punching Snoke square in the jaw.

Rey’s first thought is that it must’ve been a journalist who took the video. The camerawork is far too steady-handed to be an overexcited civilian.

“I guess you could call it an epiphany.” Rey’s eyebrows disappear up toward her hairline, her eyes remain fixed on the video. It loops, and she sees the punch to Snoke’s jaw once more. Twice more. Three times more.

“Christmas, it’s not meant to be spent at… a party. They’re meant to be spent with the people you, uh. It’s meant to be spent with you.”

Rey wrenches her gaze away from the hypnotic view of seeing Snoke’s eyes bulge in shock to look fully at Ben. The way he looks at her, he seems, for a few moments, starstruck.

He’s just sitting there. Looking at her, while surrounded by silly odds and ends, useless souvenirs from their tours together that she can’t quite bring herself to get rid of, and are always the first thing she unpacks whenever she moves.

“Ben.” Her voice is softer than she wants it to be. So, she clears her throat, running her fingers through her hair. “This video is going to change some things. Obviously.”

His eyes, dropping briefly to his hands, are brown. And they’re soulful. And ancient. They’re beautiful.

“As your manager,” she continues, her firm tone wavering, “I’m going to give you one warning. It’ll—”

A smile slips past her control. It widens until she can’t stop beaming.

“It’ll probably change my life.”

The space between Ben’s brows furrow, but there’s a growing sense of knowing in his eyes.

“How?”

“Because I fully intend,” she says, rising unsteadily to her feet, kind of giddy that they’ve finally arrived at this moment after so long, “on some serious breaches of our professional contract.”

Ben slides back his chair, wrapping his arms around her waist as she straddles his thick thighs. She cups the line of his jaw, tracing a line against the high of his cheekbone with her right. Her left strokes down the planes of his neck and collarbone. Leaning closer, she steals a quick kiss from his lips.

Underneath her as she pulls away, Ben growls playfully.

“I’m not letting you go that quick, Miss Niima.” Rey cannot help but laugh as he holds her tighter and kisses her fiercely, devotedly, and carries her upstairs to her bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/luminoustico), [tumblr](https://luminoustico.tumblr.com) and [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/shmi)! 
> 
> (Warning: I am talking spoilers for TRoS)


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